


Michael, bathrooms, and everything else

by shyberius



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Be More Chill - Freeform, Boyf, Fluff, Jeremy - Freeform, M/M, Michaek in the bathroom by himseeeellff, Michael - Freeform, Michael Mell - Freeform, Michael in the Bathroom, Romance, Tooth Rotting Fluff, bmc, boyf riends - Freeform, boyfs, george salazar - Freeform, jeremy heere - Freeform, joe iconis - Freeform, joe tracz, riends, romantic, will connoly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-04 06:01:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14013741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shyberius/pseuds/shyberius
Summary: Two alternate Michael In The Bathroom situations, such as:What if Jeremy was the one knocking on the door when Michael was in the bathroom?What if Michael was Squipped instead of Jeremy?





	1. Jeremy?

**Author's Note:**

> Michael in the bathroom, except Jeremy knocks on the door.

Michael sat on the edge of the bathtub with his feet inside it. People had already dumped their things here - crushed beer cans, empty bottles, discarded bits of costume.

Michael bitterly kicked aside a bottle of Smirnoff's. He was discarded. Suddenly he felt a seething hatred for the empty bottle which had nothing to do with the bottle itself. _Now you know how it feels._ He kicked it again, harder. The neck smashed. _To be kicked around. Thrown away when you're not needed anymore._

He stopped suddenly, letting the bottle roll away. He could have sworn he'd heard a knock at the door. It couldn't be.

Silence. Then it came louder, almost desperate. His palms began to sweat - there was no way he was ready to face anyone yet. If he never saw anyone from this party again, he would live a very happy life indeed.

A muffled voice sounded from the other side. "Michael! Please. Open up."

Jeremy?

Except Michael didn't say his name. It kind of felt like his throat had closed up, which limited his speech a bit. But _Jeremy_ was the only word in his head, back and forth, nonstop. Michael leaned against the door, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. His whole face stung - since when had crying hurt so much?

"I know you're in there, Michael. Please." The voice sounded closer now, painfully familiar. That same voice had teased him for losing in Mariokart only a couple of weeks before.

Michael took deep breaths. He would _not_ cry about stupid Mariokart.

He wasn't sure what made him do it, but in a second he felt his hand on the doorknob, turning it slowly. Michael didn't know why he was so surprised to see Jeremy standing there - he guessed he'd have walked off by now.

But he hadn't. He'd stayed.

And now he took two purposeful strides towards Michael, took his face in his hands, and kissed him fiercely. Jeremy's lips were warm; Michael could smell his salty tears, and realised that he'd been crying too. Somehow that made it all better.

"I love you," Jeremy kept on saying between kisses. "I'm so sorry." And Michael kissed back with years of wanting, years of needing, years of thinking that nothing would change.

Everything was in detail - the edges weren't blurred anymore. Michael could feel everything in stark reality: Jeremy's body pressed against his, his hand on the small on his back, the tickle of his hair falling on his face. It was a heartbroken kiss, it was the beginning, it was the end. Michael didn't even know what it was.

Jeremy pulled away sharply, a look of pain flashing across his face. "I can't..."

"I know," breathed Michael. "It's the SQUIP."

He nodded.

Michael reached out and brushed his fingers against Jeremy's cheek. His touch was feather-light, as if he were skimming water. "We'll find a way. We always do."

Jeremy smiled weakly. "Remember that level of Dungeons & Dragons we never thought we'd beat?"

"Yeah. We beat it, didn't we?" In a burst of bravery, Michael tilted his chin down to kiss his forehead.

"I didn't mean what I said, Michael." Jeremy looked up at him, his eyes bright. "You're so much. You're everything. It's always been you. I was just dumb to-" He broke off, raising a shaking hand to his throat.

Jeremy was going through this. For him. Somehow that made it all better too.

They were going to get through this. And maybe, on the other side, they could love each other.


	2. Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael in the bathroom except it's Jeremy, and Michael's Squipped.

Maybe if Jeremy thought about it less, it would seem less real. He'd walk out of here with long, confident strides. His hands wouldn't be shaking. His heart wouldn't be sinking to the bottom of his shoes.

But it was real, and no matter what, his mind always came back to that solid fact. Michael really had said those things.

And it _hurt_.

So maybe this was it. Maybe Michael would become one of those guys who everyone liked, and the stories would be about him. And maybe Jeremy would be in the background - Michael would pass him in the corridor without even a glimmer of recognition.

Jeremy rose to his feet unsteadily to find his own face staring back at him in the bathroom mirror. He hated that portrait: pale skin, sunken eyes, jutting cheekbones. Hair that flopped over his forehead with no purpose.

Michael had liked these things about him, once. There was this one time, when they were stoned in his basement, and Michael had looked him dead in the eye - totally still and silent - and said, "I just wish I could kiss you."

Now, it had been difficult to gauge just how stoned Michael was at the time. In Jeremy's mind, he would have been dead sober, and he would have meant it. But in reality, it was probably the weed.

Michael didn't kiss him that night. But Jeremy wished that he had. He ached with wishing it.

He turned on the tap, realising just how thirsty he was. Alcohol did that to you. He cupped the cold running water in two hands, closing his eyes and drinking it. Then he splashed his face, and the sudden cold brought back another memory, rushing at him, unwelcome.

It was past school closing time. Jeremy and Michael leaned against their lockers, backpacks on alternate shoulders, perfect mirror images of each other. "This SQUIP thing. You should try it," said Jeremy. He wished he hadn't said that now. If only he'd known then, he would have persuaded Michael not to take it.

"Yeah." Michael grinned, showing a small gap between his front teeth. "Hey, maybe I won't be such a loser anymore."

He'd never been a loser. Not to Jeremy, at least. "Michael?" He asked, shifting from foot to foot. "You won't...forget me, will you? Like, maybe you won't want to hang out with me once you're all cool and..."

"What are you talking about?" Michael said, his face melting into an expression of disbelief. "Of course I'll hang out with you. I always will."

 _I always will_.

Those words floated in the air in front of Jeremy, hanging uselessly. He was back in the bathroom again. The image of Michael that his memories had created had dissipated into nothing.

 _I always will_. But he hadn't, had he? Maybe he never had. Maybe this was it: Jeremy, alone, in an unfamiliar bathroom.

How long had he been in here? It had seemed like hours and minutes all at once. Suddenly he realised the noise outside the door had stopped - the dull bass of the party had died down to a quiet hum.

Was it over already?

Jeremy tentatively nudged open the door with his foot, trying to ignore the overwhelming sound of his own uneven breathing. The door swung open on its own, revealing an empty stairway. He must have been in the bathroom for longer than he thought.

Jeremy took a deep breath and a small step over the threshold, but before he could walk any further his foot collided with something hard. No: some _one_.

"Michael?" He looked down.

There he was, and he couldn't believe it - Michael, slouched down against the wall, fast asleep, right next to the bathroom door. And he looked awful, the way you'd expect someone to look after the biggest party of the Fall. Dark bags were drawn under his eyes, his cheeks were pale, and his hair was plastered to his forehead in a greasy mop.

Michael had waited for him. After all that, he'd been outside the bathroom all along.

Jeremy crouched down so that their faces were level, reaching out to smooth Michael's hair from his face. Michael was just waking up - he observed Jeremy through heavy-lidded eyes. "When I said I wanted to hang out with you..." Michael's voice was cracked, almost inaudible. "I meant always."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm reading this back now and realising how tooth-rottingly fluffy it is


End file.
